


my sin, my soul

by preciouseggsy



Series: Hartwin drabbles [5]
Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Lolita, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-23
Updated: 2019-03-23
Packaged: 2019-11-28 22:21:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18214415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/preciouseggsy/pseuds/preciouseggsy
Summary: I was re-reading my favorite bits of Nabokov’s Lolita and I was listening to Lana Del Rey while the sun was shining outside, and this happened. Please check the warnings before reading!





	my sin, my soul

Harry Hart wasn’t heartless. He made lists to remind himself that he wasn’t a bad person, always running out of things to write down, and thinking that that was exactly what a bad person would do.

Lists he saw on the backs of his eyelids when he lay down next to his soft boy and started despairing, because once again the boy had turned away from him. Harry knew that if he opened his eyes and reached over to brush the silken sheets down by no more than half an inch, he could see a glimpse of the creamy-pale skin of his back and trace the train-track marks his blunt fingernails had left there, tracks that continued side by side, but never ended up touching. Harry knew better than that, knew that touching hot on thirsty would turn him to dust, and Eggsy would simply sweep his remains under the burgundy Persian rug, never knowing the marks he had left inside Harry’s aching heart.

Some lists he jotted down on the backs of once yellow but now milky tea-stained post-it notes, not disturbing the sweet little list of groceries Eggsy had scribbled on the other side. Every single one of them started with ice cream, and Harry could never deny him anything, let alone that awful tub of vanilla-chocolate-strawberry. “With just one scoop, you can get a bit of all three flavours”, Eggsy said, sitting on the kitchen counter with a spoon in his hand, bouncing his legs impatiently as he waited for Harry to reveal his prize from the plastic bag, every now and then pulling a face at something Harry had bought that he didn’t like, even though his darling hadn’t been as picky back when Harry had first taken him into his home and into his heart. 

Lists he made by connecting words with his fingertips on the pages of some crime novel he wasn’t even interested in, too busy picturing that he was running his fingers over the tiny moles on Eggsy’s skin. Just a few here and there, but Harry had made sure to kiss each and every one of them, always saving the one on his throat as dessert for himself so that he could drink in the soft gasps from Eggsy’s rosy lips as a cherry on top. 

Indulging Eggsy in life’s simple pleasures such as cheap ice cream wasn’t something Harry did out of the goodness of his bastard heart, because if he had, then he wouldn’t be sitting on the sofa, pretending to be lost in the world of the crime novel, when his biggest crime and sin was crawling across to him with a tummy full of cream and sugar, complaining of belly ache as he wrapped his cruel-loving arms around Harry’s leg with the sweetest sigh escaping his lips as his warm cheek pressed against Harry’s knee. Those were the moments in which Harry froze, his heart leaping up to his throat, fluttering as if asking to be puked out onto the floor so that Eggsy could see nothing but his initials carved all over its red flesh, see how overwhelmingly loved he was, instead of thinking that Harry didn’t care about his pains and aches, letting out that heart-wrenching whine because Harry wasn’t drowning him in his undivided attention quick enough.

Eggsy felt feather-light in his arms as Harry carried him up the stairs, even though the boy’s body had fallen limp and heavy, clinging onto Harry as if his life depended on it. Harry felt bad, honest to god felt bad, that his unconditional love was reserved for the moonlit hours of the day when Eggsy really truly needed him, the way Eggsy responded to the hand on his flushed pink cheek by parting his lips and taking Harry’s thumb into his mouth, turning Harry’s insides into liquid by the swirl of his tongue.

Harry knew that lying in bed with his boy in his arms was the only taste of heaven he would ever get. He wasn’t a bad person, he wasn’t, but he also wasn’t delusional, so he knew that when his time came, instead of taking the stairway, he would be heading down the highway. Eggsy’s limbs wrapped around him, needy and clingy and desperate, it was paradise inside the darkness of the four walls surrounding them. And Harry was allowed to touch, to feel, to take, and Eggsy never said no, only “please” and “Harry” and those pretty little whimpers that echoed in Harry’s head long after Eggsy had turned away from him for the night again. 

One day Harry would finish a list of reasons why Eggsy would, could, and should never leave him.


End file.
